


Of Being Scared

by avxry



Series: Private Fears in Public Places [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Crying, Hurt, M/M, Modern AU, Work, alex is anxious constantly, pre slash, thomas is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avxry/pseuds/avxry
Summary: "How tired am I of being scared // but how awake am I now that I know you're here."Alexander overworks himself, as usual, and Thomas is there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this will make more sense if you read the others first but you do you

All he knows is that there is a pit in his stomach and it will not will not will not go away unless he just keeps working, keeps reading, keeps writing, stays awake, keeps busy. Alexander hunches over his desk, racing the feeling in his chest that has him doubting himself.

He's afraid to look at the clock on his computer, afraid to face how long he really has been working. It must be hours, at least, and he hasn't slept in probably about three days, but it doesn't matter because he couldn't sleep anyway, not with this feeling gnawing away at his brain, this uncertainty and absolute fear of inadequacy.

This work has to be done. He barely even knows what it is anymore, but it has to be done. He has read so many documents and reports over the past three days, has signed his name on a finely dotted line so many times, has written so many pages of words he can barely comprehend now. His hands twitch and shake as he tries to type, hitting all the wrong keys, but spellcheck is his buddy, keeping him on track.

His normally comfortable office chair has begun to dig into his back, the normally soft cushion becoming stone underneath him. His legs have gone a little numb, and his neck is almost stuck in a craned position from how long he's been hunched over his laptop. The brightness on the screen is on its lowest setting, but the tiny letters against the white background jump out at him, like lasers into his eyes. His head is pounding, and he wants more than anything to shut the laptop and just crawl into the corner of his office and sleep for days, but the monster inside him keeps telling him that everything that he's accomplished just isn't enough, it isn't enough not enough not enough more more _more more -_

"Hamilton?"

Alexander's head snaps up sharply, eyes straining to see who had entered his office. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the immediate change of scene.

He squints. "Jefferson?"

"You look like hell," Thomas comments, walking further into the room, dropping his briefcase in one of the chairs across from Alexander's desk and falling into the other one. He gives Alexander a look that secretly hides concern. "How long has it been since you've slept?" he asks, then adds, "Or eaten?"

Alexander's brain faults for a moment as he tries to sit back in his chair, but his spine warns him with a sharp ache. "Um," he says, blinking slowly, "what's the date?"

Thomas rubs a hand over his face with a heavy sigh, wondering how he got stuck with this man as his enemy and neighbor (but he's not complaining that much). "Come on, Hamilton," he says, "let's go home."

"No, no, I can't," Alexander says, his breath hitching as he turns back to his laptop, trying to read over what he's written so he can jump back in, but his eyes get watery, the words blurring together, and he doesn't realize when he starts crying.

Thomas feels helpless, looking across the desk at Alexander, who wipes his face on his sleeve and brings his hands up to rest over the keyboard. He tries to punch something out, but his fingers are shaking.

Alexander hits a few keys, but they are incoherent when they reach the page, his hands trembling too much to hit the right keys, and he lets himself release a little sob, trying to will Thomas to just go away, let him deal with this, let him do his work so this feeling will _go away please go away_ but Thomas doesn't leave.

Thomas rises from his seat and rounds the desk, spinning Alexander around in his chair to face him. Alexander is powerless and weak. He stares up at Thomas, desperately trying to care that he's so vulnerable, but Thomas is just so gentle as he brushes Alexander's hair back from his face and wipes a little tear off his cheek.

"Come on," he says, taking him by the forearms and pulling him up from the chair. Thomas's plan had been to walk him to his the door then, but Alexander just falls into his arms, wrapping himself around Thomas's middle and sobbing a little more.

Thomas is uncomfortable for a moment, but he selfishly embraces him and holds him close. Alexander is wracked with sobs, his chest lightly heaving as he breathes and hiccups. Alexander stutters through his gasps, "I'm just so _scared please make it stop_ ," and Thomas feels his heart break as Alexander holds him closer.

He doesn't know what to do, but he finds himself saying, "Sh, sh, I'm here. I'm here, you're okay." He runs a hand through Alexander's hair gently, whispering little comforts, until he feels Alexander relax, his breath evening out.

"Let's get you home, okay?" Thomas suggests, and Alexander mutely nods, drawing back from Thomas without meeting his eyes. Thomas can see the shame start building up on Alexander's face, so he places a gentle hand on the man's shoulder and says, "It's okay, Alexander."

Their eyes meet momentarily, and Alexander can feel his insides begin to unclench, can feel the gnawing ache in his gut recede ever so slightly. Thomas gives him a tiny sympathetic smile, and his shoulders fall in exhaustion. His legs wobble beneath him, and he feels as if he's about to fall, but Thomas takes him arm gently as he shuts the laptop, then pulls him along out the front doors and into the parking lot.

Alexander nearly falls asleep in the passenger seat, but the bumpiness of the road keeps him awake, along with the little glances Thomas gives him out of the corner of his eye every few minutes.

They arrive at their apartment building, taking the elevator to the third floor. Thomas leads him to his own apartment and unlocks it using the key that Alexander foolishly keeps on the top of the door frame.

Thomas has never been inside Alexander's apartment, but it is as he expects it to be. It's messy in a tidy way, giving way to a cozy aesthetic. He tries to not get caught up in imagining Alexander living here (making coffee in the morning, cooking dinner at night, reading a book on the little Bohemian style couch with a blanket, being cute and domestic _Thomas stop_ ) as he leads him to the room he assumes is the bedroom.

He figures he could get away with undressing Alexander, but his fantasies would never live it down, and it would just further patronize Alexander, he thinks, so he just sets the man down on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair back again, trying to not let his concern completely bleed through.

"I'll tell Washington you're not coming in tomorrow," he says quietly, and Alexander's eyes go a little wide (as much as they physically can).

"But -"

"No buts," Thomas interrupts with a shake of his head as he backs out of the bedroom. "Get some sleep."

Alexander has no room for protests. The last thing he hears before he falls into a slumber is his front door shutting.

He wakes up over fourteen hours later to find a bag of fast food sitting on his kitchen counter with a note written in Thomas's handwriting that reads _EAT_!

He drowsily smiles to himself. Thomas Jefferson really is something.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, and feedback is always welcome!! I hope you enjoyed!


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